Ninety-Nine Nights Just Means There's More He Can Find

[Cactus]

His collar beeped loudly.

"Fuck."

It beeped again; he stopped dead in his tracks.

((Morgan Dragosavich continued from Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Is In)))

Everyone was dead, it felt like. If they hadn't gone and gotten themselves killed by someone who'd lost their mind, they had devolved to their baser instincts and had decided that murdering their friends was the name of the game, and more importantly — all was well in love and SOTF! The announcement had been a complete fucking eye-opener for Morgan, and as he'd crouched behind a tree to take a moment and listen to the list of the dead, he couldn't believe half of what he was hearing. Outside of Henry and Lizzie, it seemed like everyone nice at George Hunter was already dead.

Michael got to wander himself off of that list judging by just how the terrorists had described his kill. His buddy was truly disturbed, he saw that really clearly now, and considering that those bastards had decided to go and give him a prize for what he'd done just added a whole other layer to how completely mindfucked he knew Michael would be.

Another beep changed the track his train of thought was steaming along upon.

What the hell else was he supposed to do? He'd seen first-hand what this was doing to people. From Michael, from Wyatt, from Bryan, Lucas, Abe and Andy — from Camila and Jeremiah, or whatever was left of them. Did they truly live on in memory? Did the duffel bag he now carried have any more significance because it had once belonged to someone who'd died? He didn't know about any of that. Morgan hadn't been overly religious for most of his life. He'd prayed when his mother had been hospitalized, sure, but otherwise religion was just a thing for people to cling to in order to make themselves feel better. He'd always felt more at home with science. Science brought with it an innate set of beliefs that made more sense to him.

His neck beeped again, a little quicker now.

"Shut up," he muttered down at himself.

Michael getting an award for killing Camila did solve one problem, though. His friend had ditched him, and if he were going to find him, there were only so many places he could go. Of course, there was the small matter of the explosive collars that seemed to be in the way of him following his friend to the temple. He'd seen him, as he beelined for the forbidden area; far in the distance. So he had followed. It made sense. Such an award was going to rock Michael's world. The sense of self, of continuity that he'd managed to pull him back on would have been rocked again. Morgan didn't know if he'd be able to pull Michael back, but he'd have to try.

Even if it killed him.

It probably would.

The beeping again, the intervals getting closer together.

Smarter would have been to go and find Lizzie, and provided she wasn't totally batshit crazy by now, probably try and spend whatever time they had left protecting one another. Maybe fucking, because what else were you supposed to do when the world was coming to an end?

But that was selfish. It was a selfish desire, to spend his last moments — which fuck that, he still refused to admit that he was going to die here — with someone he... loved? It was a little too fresh to know if that was what had been going on, but he really liked Lizzie. She made him feel good, and she liked him back, too. So if it wasn't love, maybe it was still enough.

He wanted to do that, with all of his heart. Michael was broken, likely never to be whole again. Morgan knew that, didn't want to admit it to himself. But this was his best friend. What if he did survive? He'd never be able to forgive himself if he didn't try. If he didn't stop his friend from doing something terrible.

Something else terrible.

More beeping; holy shit. The collar was about to explode, wasn't it?

It then occurred to Morgan that he'd been standing still for more minutes than was conducive to his own safety. Smacking himself on the cheek, that seemed to do it. His legs started responding again.

"Input lag," he mumbled as he turned around and bolted back the way he'd come. Being in the forest, it was impossible to tell where the zone areas ended or began, and the only sound that he could use to tell was the beeping coming from his collar.

The beeping which was still getting very fast; barely a second between beeps.

Oh God, he'd screwed up.

Beep.

Oh God.

Beep.

You idiot.

Beep.

You can't help anyone if you're dead.

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep—

Morgan screamed as he ran, giving the impression as though he were being chased by a phantom. In a manner of speaking, he was.

It took a few moments for him to realize that the beeping had stopped, and his legs were still pumping furiously. When the realization hit him, he stopped in his place, but the momentum of his duffel bag sent him sprawling to the ground, a limp pile of legs, arms, and supplies. He was a complete fucking mess.

But he was a mess that was still alive. For now, anyway. Dragging himself up from the ground, Morgan facepalmed, mud from the ground transferring onto his damp face. He was fortunate. Had he slipped in a puddle or over a tree branch, he would almost certainly have died.

"But I didn't."

The out-loud affirmation was as much for himself as it was for any of the cameras or to win an internal argument. It was a declaration: he was still alive, against all odds. Nobody was giving him a chance. Michael, even. No wonder he'd left. It was actually kind of nice that he'd stuck around the night, maybe taking a last night to try and feel normal again.

If Morgan had anything to say about it, that night would not be the last, for either of them. Michael couldn't stay in that danger zone forever, and when he emerged, maybe he'd be armed. But whatever happened, Morgan would wait, and he would follow. Someone had to try and save whatever was left of Michael Froese. Erika was there, too. Another friend. Another name with a body count.

He was starting to lose track.

((Morgan Dragosavich continued in Shame, Shame Go Away, Come Again Some Other Day))